


Waking Dream

by Da_Vinci_101 (Metonic_Cycle)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Historical Inaccuracy, Internal Conflict, Italian Renaissance, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Or Leonardo Tries And Shit Hits the Fan Anyway, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metonic_Cycle/pseuds/Da_Vinci_101
Summary: Was this the afterlife, perhaps? Not that he ever believed in such things…Was he somehow still alive, then? And if so, who brought him here? And why? And where was Ezio? A tired groan rumbled from the artista’s chest. Already he could feel the neck tension building up, and the side of his head beginning to ache in response. Then again, perhaps this was the afterlife- after all, at this point he shouldn’t be able to feel a thing. Let alone still be breathing.If this was the afterlife, it seemed that migraines were apparently still a thing.Groaning again, Leonardo finally pushed himself into a sitting position. Leaning back in his chair, he let his gaze trail across the room. Odd. This… looked exactly like his workshop back when he lived in Firenze. And everything had been working on from that time- sketches, paintings, scribblings of ideas for inventions, etc.It was all here.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze & Leonardo da Vinci, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Back to the Beginning

When Leonardo awoke, he was astonished to find himself sprawled across his worktable, apparently having fallen asleep there. But how? He had been confined to his bed for the past several months, and the last thing he could remember… he had been lying there, in Ezio’s arms, as the life torturously took its time in leaving his body. His best friend…

Leonardo felt a twinge of pain stabbing his heart.

Ezio had held him, cradled him in his arms like he was a small, fragile child until the moment darkness had overtaken him. Leonardo remembered the moment when all thoughts, all feelings, all memories seemed to wilt away into nothingness. Like a plant dying from the lack of water and sun. So then… why was he awake? Why was he in his workshop, of all places?

Was this the afterlife, perhaps? Not that he ever believed in such things…

Was he somehow still alive, then? And if so, who brought him here? And why? And where was Ezio? A tired groan rumbled from the _artista_ ’s chest. Already he could feel the neck tension building up, and the side of his head beginning to ache in response. Then again, perhaps this was the afterlife- after all, at this point he shouldn’t be able to feel a thing. Let alone still be breathing.

If this was the afterlife, it seemed that migraines were apparently still a thing.

Groaning again, Leonardo finally pushed himself into a sitting position. Leaning back in his chair, he let his gaze trail across the room. Odd. This… looked exactly like his workshop back when he lived in Firenze. And everything had been working on from that time- sketches, paintings, scribblings of ideas for inventions, etc.

It was _all_ here.

 _“Che diavolo…?”_ Leonardo muttered, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed back away from his table. He shoved himself up onto his feet and rushed towards his workshop door frantically, fumbling around with the door handle as he jerked it. The door finally swung open, and Leonardo found himself almost tumbling onto the street outside. A few people passing by gave him odd looks, perhaps wondering why he was stumbling around like a drunkard. It wasn’t as if he cared at the moment, in any case.

No- what he cared about was the fact that he was somehow back in Firenze, workshop and all. Was this real? Or was it a dream? A world conjured up in his mind… to what end?

Time seemed to stop altogether as a shout reached his ears. Looking up, Leonardo could see a familiar figure racing across the rooftops, leaping between each one effortlessly, with the perfect grace of an eagle in flight. There was only one person Leonardo knew who could move like that. And as the figure grew closer, as their eyes met his own for split second, he knew.

Ezio.

But he was not wearing his assassin robes- in fact, he appeared to be wearing the very same outfit he’d worn when the two of them had first met. And his face. Clean, with just a slight, barely visible dusting of a beard.

Ezio, despite glancing at Leonardo for maybe a split-second or so, didn’t even slow down for a second. Within moments, he had vanished just as quickly as he had come. Leonardo just stood there, utter shock and confusion written all across his features as he tried and failed to comprehend what he had just seen. The _artista_ finally moved, stumbling back into his workshop and slamming the door shut behind him. He fell back against the door, the wood creaking with his weight, and he slid down to the floor.

Leonardo let his head fall back against the door as he tried to piece together a single coherent thought. The first one that finally left his lips was not very pretty.

_“Che cazzo??”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for this shitty first chapter...


	2. What Is a Man, But an Animal?

Leonardo dropped the crimson-splattered articles of clothing onto the floor, his hands trembling violently. After he dressed in some clean clothes and scrubbed his hands clean of the drying red staining his fingers, the agitated _artista_ sat down in one of the few stools in the room that _wasn’t_ covered in a leaning tower of books. His body shook with every breath taken, and he let his face fall into the palms of his hands, a choked sob leaving his chest.

 _“Che cazzo ho appena fatto?”_ Leonardo muttered, sliding his hands up to his forehead and staring down at his boots, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks. “What did I do, what did I do, what did I do?” He knew full well what he did.

_Ezio Auditore! I… I didn’t expect to see you again. What with all that’s happened…_

_Merda! So it was Uberto who destroyed the documents that could prove your family’s innocence? And then… had them hanged…_

_There was nothing you could have done, Ezio. You did not know. It’s as simple as that._

**_In high enough doses, that which cures can kill._ **

None of it went as planned.

Granted, Leonardo had never wanted to do this in the first place. To… to take another man’s life… But to do nothing would mean that he would be responsible for letting Ezio have to live through all of that again- to see his father, his brothers, hanged. After determining through a short visit with Ezio’s family that he had indeed somehow found himself in the past- and sometime before the arrest and execution of Ezio’s father and brothers, no less- Leonardo realised he had a choice to make. To intervene, or to let events transpire just like they did before. To take control of the future, or to…

At first he considered alerting Giovanni and Federico to Uberto Alberti’s true allegiance. But what if they did not believe him- or worse, what if they thought that Leonardo to be a traitor instead? _Sì_ , Leonardo was close to the Auditore family for sure- but so was Uberto. Or so the Auditore family believed. It did not help that Leonardo had some trouble with the law earlier this year. _Sì_ , the charges were dropped- but undoubtedly the events that had transpired had reached the ears of the Auditore family, and affected their views of him, as well as the trust built between him and the family.

Who would they rather believe? The answer was heart-wrenchingly _obvious._

So that left Leonardo with one other option. An option he did not want to even consider- an option that, if anyone found out he was the cause of, he would certainly be hanged for. An option that violently went against every moral fibre of his being, that went against the very core of his beliefs. But to do nothing… he would be responsible for the deaths of Ezio’s father and brothers. Having that on his conscience would be a thousand times worse, something that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

The original plan was to break into Uberto’s home that night and slip some poison into the man’s food and drink- then get out. It was supposed to be quick and clean. As well as a relatively painless way for Uberto to go. So, after visiting the tailor and having the man make some required alterations to one of Leonardo’s outfits, the _artista_ stashed several vials of poison in one pouch of his belt, and some small throwing knives in another pouch- he knew he couldn’t possibly throw the knives without missing his target, but they were easy to carry, and could be used at close range if _absolutely necessary._

It became absolutely necessary.

Uberto had caught Leonardo pouring a vial of poison onto his dinner. The _artista_ had his hood pulled low over his head, and a neck scarf covering up the entire lower half of his face, so Uberto did not recognise him. Not at first.

Uberto lunged at him, shoving Leonardo into the nearby wooden cabinet. He yelped as a sharp pain shot upwards in his back, right where it struck the cabinet. The struggle seemed to blur- Leonardo remembered being thrown into more furniture, and landing the occasional blow on the other man. And then he remembered fumbling with his pouch as he lay on the floor, his neck scarf completely missing (as it had been torn off at some point), his hood down, and Uberto’s laughter ringing mockingly.

 _“Patetico, semplicemente patetico,”_ Uberto growled as he directed his gaze towards the downed Leonardo, recognition now written all over his face. “I know not what it is you have against me, but regardless you will be _hanged_ for this, _puttana!”_

As Uberto turned round and calmly walked towards the door, no doubt to call the guards, Leonardo finally tore his pouch open. His fingers wrapped around a knife, and, thrusting himself to his feet, Leonardo grabbed Uberto with his free hand, covering the man’s mouth to muffle his startled cry as the _artista_ buried the blade deep into his back.

“I will _not_ let you harm the Auditore family,” Leonardo muttered, tearing the blade out of Uberto’s back and releasing him. As Uberto simply stared, struggling to stand, blood streaming from both the stab wound and his mouth, Leonardo added, “And I will _not_ let you, or the rest of the Templars _destroy_ Ezio’s life.”

Uberto’s body slumped to the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Leonardo turned away and clambered out the window he’d come in through, his thoughts so cluttered and misshapen that he couldn’t decipher them. It was only when he had returned to his workshop, that he was in the safety of an enclosed space, alone, that it hit him.

He had just _killed_ a man.

Leonardo’s sobs grew more frequent, filling the room with the rolling pain of desperation and sorrow tormenting his soul. Is this what he was meant for now? To sacrifice his own morals… and for what? To take Ezio’s place, so that Ezio could live a normal life, and be with his family?

 _No, do not think like that,_ Leonardo told himself. _Do not be selfish. You did what you had to do. There was no other way._

But was he only deluding himself?

Was he only lying to himself, deceiving, all so he could make himself feel better about what he’d done? Was he acting out of selfishness? Out of some hidden desire for vengeance, for blood to be spilled in return for blood spilled? Perhaps, if he had waited, he could have come up with another solution. A solution that did not involve Uberto’s demise, at least not by Leonardo’s hand. But at what cost? What if, by the time he had come up with another option, it was too late? What if Giovanni and his sons had already been arrested and hanged by that point?

If that had come to pass, Ezio would have been forced to walk that terrible path of pain and suffering all over again.

And it would be all Leonardo’s fault.

In any case, what was done was done. Uberto was dead, and unless Leonardo was trapped in a time loop of some kind, there was no changing that now.

But what of the future? There were still many enemies of the Auditore family and the Assassins that had to be dealt with. What was he supposed to do, with all this knowledge? Pass the burden onto someone else? No, no. He could not do that. He could not condemn anyone else with a burden such as this. No. It was better if he was the only one being condemned to this hell of his.

“After all,” Leonardo murmured, lifting his head and looking out the window, taking in the pale moonlight soaking the inside of his workshop, _“cos'è un uomo, ma un animale?”_

_Was it worth it?_

_To give up your_ soul _for him?_

_Do not think like that. It is selfish._

_To do this is selfish._

_To do nothing is selfish._

_No matter what you do or where you go, death will only follow._

**_Was there truly no other way?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the Italian is wrong, I used Google Translate sdkjfkfgfghh And I'm sorry Ezio still hasn't appeared yet, but he's coming soon, I swear-


	3. Consequences

News of Uberto’s murder, once his body had been discovered by his wife and children later that night (who had been away visiting a family friend in one of the other districts at the time he was killed), spread like wildfire. Needless to say, Firenze was thrown into something of a state of panic. It’s not every day that a highly respected member of the Florentine community was murdered, after all. Granted, he was a lawyer, so it was unsurprising that he should have enemies.

Leonardo just hoped that what he had done wouldn’t result in the Florentine guard busting down his door. While he had no connection to Uberto aside from the Auditore family, that didn’t stop the inventor from fearing for his life. That didn’t stop him from glancing over his shoulder every ten seconds as he walked down the streets of Firenze, afraid that someone might be following him, that someone knew what he’d done.

It wasn’t long before he reached Palazzo Auditore.

He had to make sure that they were alright. That his taking of Uberto’s life had not been in vain.

The _artista_ strode into the courtyard cautiously, his eyes flicking left and right, searching for any sign of trouble. Hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him, Leonardo whirled about on his heel, hands flying up to protect his face.

But no blow came.

 _“Mi dispiace, amico,”_ an all-too familiar, heart-stopping voice spoke. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Leonardo lowered his hands, blinking quickly, and unable to hide the redness rising to his face. His eyes met those of none other than Ezio Auditore. His best friend. The man he loved so deeply, despite knowing that he could and would never love him back. The man he was so willing and ready to give up his soul for, if his actions last night were anything to go by.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Leonardo replied, now playing with his hands nervously. Their movements were erratic, anxious. He wanted so desperately to grab Ezio by the shoulders, to pull him close, to hold him, to… “I just… am a little jumpy today.”

“I cannot say that I blame you,” Ezio murmured, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall behind him. “I had never met Uberto personally, but my father spoke very highly of him. They were close friends.”

Ah- so Ezio had not had a chance to meet Uberto before the man’s murder. “How rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself yet-” the young Auditore put a hand on his chest and went on, “I am Ezio Auditore, although I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Leonardo nodded, crossing his own arms over his chest to stop his fidgeting- which had only gotten worse since he’d arrived. “Indeed I have. I’m Leonardo da Vinci. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Messere Auditore.”

“For one, _per favore,_ call me Ezio. ‘Messere Auditore’ makes me sound like an old man, and that privilege is reserved for my father only,” Ezio added with a smirk. That smirk only grew wider when Leonardo barked a laugh. “Secondly, the pleasure is all mine, Maestro da Vinci.”

 _“Per favore,_ if I am going to call you Ezio, then you might as well call me Leonardo. It is only fair, after all.”

Ezio chuckled, brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “That is true. So, what brings you here, _Leonardo?”_

Leonardo’s smile fell instantly as he remembered why he was here, what had brought him here, and… what he had done last night. “I- well, I…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. What he _didn’t_ think about, of course, was an excuse for coming here in the first place. 

And then he remembered. Yesterday. When he saw Ezio skirting across the rooftops… if he was going to continue down this path, if he was to do what was necessary to keep Ezio and his family safe… then this was something he would undoubtedly have to learn _very_ soon.

“I was wondering if you could teach me to climb like you do,” Leonardo finally answered, slipping into the false calm he used to use when interacting with Cesare Borgia. He was a fast learner of almost all things, lying and such included. He _had_ to be, in order to keep both himself and Ezio safe. He’d initially been taken off-guard, but it was very easy to slip into the façade when necessary.

Despite Ezio being someone Leonardo would trust with his life, they had yet to build the same strong bond that they’d shared before. And the events of last night only served to leave him very on edge, regardless of whom he was in the presence of. “I saw you leaping across the rooftops yesterday,” the _artista_ explained, “and… well, I am working on a, ahh, project that would require me to climb buildings. I am afraid I can’t be any more specific than that.”

Ezio snorted, his smirk growing a few more centimetres. “When you walked into the courtyard, I thought it was you who I saw in the street, watching me- but I was not sure until now.” He stepped forward, away from the wall he was leaning against, and approached Leonardo. “Very well. I’ll teach you. I cannot make any promises that we will get very far, though- things like this require patience.”

“Lucky for you, I am a very patient man,” Leonardo countered. After a short pause, thinking back on Ezio and his _terrible_ wagon-driving skills, he added, _“Most_ of the time.”

“You had better find some more suitable clothes, then,” Ezio told him, gently tapping the other man’s beret with his finger. “Would be a shame to lose that nice hat of yours.”

~~~~

Leonardo knew that carrying around crates filled with art supplies tended to work different muscles than those used for climbing- but he still didn’t expect to get _this_ tired so quickly. He also quickly discovered that he wasn’t overly fond of heights- perhaps it was because he remembered the many times Ezio used to drop by his workshop due to a nasty fall.

In any case, by the time he and Ezio called it a day, the palms of Leonardo’s hands were covered in fresh scabs currently covered by cloth bandages (courtesy of one of the many dottores here in Firenze- he had attempted to refuse to go to one, as he could have easily taken care of his hands himself, but Ezio was insistent. Leonardo made it perfectly clear however that he did _not_ want leeches. _That_ was non-negotiable), and he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet without support. So the young Auditore allowed the inventor to sling an arm over his shoulders, and helped him back to the workshop, following the directions being mumbled to him. Soon enough, they reached the front door. By then Leonardo was able to stand on his own, just barely.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, _amico,”_ Leonardo said, fumbling with the doorknob. He could barely even use his hands now, they were so tired, and sharp pain from the scabs accompanied every movement.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ezio told him with a laugh. “We still have a long way to go before you even come _close_ to reaching my level. At least you have the basics of climbing down- you are a fast learner.” He paused. “We will hold off on climbing lessons for a few days, to give your body some time to recover.”

Leonardo nodded, finally managing to wrap his fingers around the door handle. “I thought as much. I doubt I’ll even be able to get out of bed tomorrow- I’ll have to hasten my current commissions the day after if I want to be on time.”

This quip earned another him another laugh from the young Auditore, and he smiled.

~~~~

After discarding his vest and shoes, Leonardo was in nothing but his undershirt and hose, flitting around his workshop much like a hummingbird as he gathered up armfuls of papers and tools. He set them all carefully on what little space on his worktable was available- he really should clean up his workshop at some point, but at the moment that was far from his top priority. Right now, his priority was making absolutely _certain_ that Ezio’s father and brothers would not be arrested. Just because he dealt with the most immediate threat to the family currently did not mean that they were out of the water yet.

It was extremely likely that Rodrigo Borgia had a backup plan in place should Uberto Alberti fail. And since Uberto was now dead, if Rodrigo did indeed have such a backup plan, it would not be long before it was enacted.

Leonardo fumbled through his piles of books and scraps of paper on the table and pulled out a small piece of charcoal. Once he had that and blank sheet of paper in hand, he set to work. His hand flew across the page at remarkable speed despite the pain shooting through it with each movement, the image in his mind’s eye crystal clear. The _artista_ remembered each and every little part of the weapon, right down to the smallest pieces.

 _I cannot believe I’m even_ doing _this…_

He shook his head.

Focus. He needed to focus. If he didn’t focus, if he didn’t do what needed to be done, then Ezio’s father and brothers would die. Possibly even Ezio himself and the rest of his family, now that the future had become more uncertain with the death of Uberto. The very thought made Leonardo sick to the stomach, causing it to knot up tight. His vision started to blur, unable to focus any longer on the page in front of him. His chest felt both light and heavy at the same time.

 _Diavolo, I cannot believe I_ killed _a man last night…_

He wondered, if he had been given the chance for a do-over, if he would kill Uberto again. He instantly brushed the thought aside- he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Focus,” Leonardo muttered, directing his gaze towards the parchment in front of him once more. The tip of his charcoal started dancing across it once more, filled with a determination that the inventor himself was currently lacking. “For Ezio.”

_For Ezio._

_For his father._

_For his brothers._

_His mother and sister._

**_For all of them._ **

He worked late into the night, starting work on construction once he’d finished drawing- or rather _redrawing_ \- up the plans for this device. He worked late into the night, and once he was finally finished, he briefly considered trying to get some sleep. But he knew full well he wouldn’t be able to. His murder of Uberto was still weighing on his mind much like a rock sinking in the ocean, and his fear that while he slept, Ezio and his family could be…

Leonardo released a shaky sigh, carefully sliding the somewhat crudely-constructed bracer over his hand and down onto his lower arm. The leather and metal felt cold against his skin, chilling it. He hadn’t even used it on anyone yet, and already it felt as if it had seen death, as if it had brought death. As soon as he’d slipped it on, he wanted to tear it off. He wanted to tear it off, run into the night all the way to the river, and hurl the cursed weapon into the water. He wanted to let it hit the water with a splash, let it sink to the bottom, return to his workshop, and forget _everything_.

But he couldn’t.

To do so meant he would very likely be condemning Ezio and his family to death. He wanted to believe that he could convince the Templars responsible for the executions of Ezio’s family in his previous life to change, to discourage them from their evil activities, and perhaps even to _turn_ on Rodrigo Borgia.

But Leonardo had already tried that before, with Cesare. And the consequences…

The consequences were something he wanted desperately to forget.

A tear trickled down the _artista’_ s cheek, and dripped off onto the worktable with an almost silent _plop_. He shuddered, and quickly pushed back his chair, standing up. He wiped his face with his right hand, the one that didn’t have charcoal streaked all over it, and approached the small wooden chest in which he’d stored the clothes he had worn last night.

The clothes he wore when he killed Uberto.

Leonardo fell to his knees before it, ignoring the brief, sharp pain from the impact with the paint-stained floor. His hands hovered over the metal clasps of the lid, trembling violently.

_Hypocrite._

_Murderer._

**_Heathen._ **

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and finally letting his fingers wrap around the small pieces of metal.

“For Ezio,” Leonardo murmured, opening his eyes.

_You are only telling yourself that to make yourself feel better._

_But, the real question is-_

**Do _you feel_ any _better?_**

He pressed his thumbs against the clasps, flipping them upwards. He then pushed the lid open, and reached inside for the still-bloodied garments.

“For Ezio.”

**You truly _don’t_ feel _any_ better… do you? **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love to make people suffer djdkhfkjgfjk I'm so evil lmao


End file.
